


All I Meant

by my_inked_asterism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Post-War, ginny and ron have some good interactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 06:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12052881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_inked_asterism/pseuds/my_inked_asterism
Summary: Set at the Burrow in the middle of the night, Ginny helps Ron talk about some heavy secrets he had kept for himself for too long by now... and Hermione happens to hear it all.





	All I Meant

After having endured the piercing cold of the Forest of Dean, or even worse, the Christmases freezing at Godric’s Hollow, Hermione now finds herself not so tolerant as she used to be of the muggy weather of the Burrow. She’s not really surprised then when she wakes up in the middle of the night, sweaty and sleepy, in desperate need of water. 

As a habit, she stretches her hand at her side, automatically searching for the warmth and solid body she’s yet aware it can't be there. It only took her a couple of nights to get used of Ron sleeping by her side. It had felt so right, so familiar already, as if they had been doing it for ages. Those nights, for how few they’ve been, Hermione never felt so at peace in her whole life, with Ron’s chest going up and down rhythmically against her shoulder blades and his big arm circling her waist as she used to trace abstract patterns on his skin, counting his little freckles one by one until her eyes shut closed. 

But then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had come back from their visit to the numerous relatives, just a quick tour to make sure everyone made it safely, considering the recent events.

No more than a couple of weeks had passed since the end of the battle and yet, Ron’s parents never spent much more than the night at their place, always busy with bureaucracy to deal with because of Ron’s front during his mission or the several calls of help from Hogwarts. 

For some time, by now, Hermione suspects neither of these reasons are valid anymore. She hasn't seen a single patronus, no bluish cats or lynxs or whatever, cross the edge of the Burrow. What she really noticed instead, were the several letters of condolence left unopened on the coffee table, some of them combined to a little bouquet, other ones matching an old photo of Fred, usually smiling. The latter, were the only ones they kept. 

Apart from that, the old couple had kept avoiding them for as long as possible, until staying at home with the four children left in the house (six counting Harry and Hermione) became inevitable and needed for everyone's sanity, included theirs, of course. 

Consequently, with adults at home 24 hours per day, rooms took the usual pre-war formation: ladies with ladies, boys with boys. 

So if she wasn't being that shocked at the lack of Ron’s body against hers, much more surprised Hermione gets when she spots Ginny’s bed empty as well. 

With her sight slowly adjusting at the darkness of the room, Hermione’s already on her way to the door, stumbling on her own feet at first. She’s about to turn the knob when a loud crack makes her stop at once. It’s from the hallway, she can tell, from where just an echo of careful squeaks is coming and from the weight of those Hermione deduces it’s just Ginny, maybe sneaking out for a piece of cake in the middle of the night as usual. 

With her back turned to the door already, her spine suddenly freezes when she hears a thump. 

“Oh shit– Gin, you okay?” 

Hermione’s eyes widen in pure surprise at the sound of Ron’s voice, so close to her room to make her feel safe just by knowing he’s there.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” She hears Ginny hissing back with a whisper, avoiding Ron’s concern. 

“I was just… I can't sleep very well.” Ron’s tone is sadly flat, which makes her heart clench in a minute. Somehow though she resists throwing the doors open and crashing her body against his, anchoring herself to that shade of curiosity that keeps her wide awake behind the thin wall. 

Ginny’s voice softens a little. “Nightmares?” 

There’s a pause in which Hermione _ knows _ he’s nodding. 

“Besides,” he continues with shaky voice, “it’s too quiet up there.” 

She knows what he means. She’s been in his room, at night too even though for very different purposes from the current ones,  but whether for the yelling, the laughter or for the constant clicks and noises of those crazy inventions, the room below Ron’s never completely shut up. It sounds like desert now. 

“I know,” murmurs Ginny. Then after a while –for the new tone of her voice, Hermione thinks she’s been trying not to cry– she adds, “here.” 

She hears them moving, stepping away carefully but still unable to avoid the squeak of the old parquet. 

As quickly and silently as she can, Hermione reacts by instinct: curiosity gets the upper hand and with an expert move, she grabs her wand and mouths, “ _ Muffliato.” _

She opens the door carefully, without caring about the noises now, enough to peek at Ginny’s hand taking Ron’s to drag him to a close rung downstairs, where the last flight of stairs leads directly to the evening room. They stop halfway and finally sit down, so that the only view Hermione has from where she is, is the sight of their backs, the curve of the wall partly covering Ginny’s figure while Ron’s slightly more visible; she manages to catch his profile only now and then in fact, whenever he turns to glance at his sister. 

“Is Hermione sleeping?” Asks Ron at some point, more to break the tension, she thinks. 

Despite the spell she cast minutes ago, at hearing her name Hermione can't help but holding her breath, scared of betraying herself. 

“Tonight, yes.” 

Ron just nods, getting what she means because at the end of the day they walked through hell together. Their nightmares can't be but similar. 

Then as if he could  _ sense _ her presence, she sees Ron’s back jerk a little, and a moment later he turns back so quickly, almost as quickly as she closes the door in front of her (bless the soundproof). She’s panting, not expecting that at all. Only after a while she decides to give it another try, carefully turning the knob once more that night. 

“What is it?” Ginny urges. They’re both back at staring into darkness in front of them, Ginny’s back relaxes, Ron’s– not so much.

“It’s just… nothing.” He stutters, “never mind.” 

There’s another pause, longer. Ron looks uncomfortable and Hermione's totally clueless why but before she has time to overthink it, Ginny’s hand slides to Ron’s shoulder, stroking it in such an endearing way Hermione’s positive she’s never witnessed them to be that close. 

“You don't have to blame yourself,” she whispers softly, causing Ron to turn to face her. “For her nightmares, you know.” 

As if he’d just been hit by a bludger, Ron’s eyes widen, a mix of surprise and… shame? depicted in his expression. 

He pursues his lips and looks down at his feet. “So you know.” 

“She told me.” 

“Of how I left?” Ron’s voice is broken, indignation crosses his light blue eyes that had already started filling with tears. 

“Of how you came back.” She smiles at him while saying those words. He returns the smile after processing what she said, that that’s what Hermione actually told her. With watery eyes, the corners of his mouth slowly turn upward at the realization that she must’ve told his sister not just about the pain for his departure, but also the relief and endless happiness when she saw him cross the edge of their tent. 

And at that memory, Hermione’s lips follow suit and turn into a smile. 

“I love her more than anything,” he confesses. Hermione’s heart starts pounding so much in her chest she’s now afraid to miss his following words, feeling so dizzy all of sudden at his confession. “I missed her the moment I left. And  _ I’m aware  _ of how ridiculous and cheesy it may sound but– god… I felt it. I felt like one part of me literally froze at the lack of her. And this doesn’t justify what I did, I know, but…” he sighs, exhausted by his own tell, as if he had just started to crumble that enormous weight out of his chest. His voice is trembling, so is Hermione’s whole body as she listens to him, “the snatchers found me right after I disapparated. They hit me; they knew –suspected –who I was but I resisted until they were convinced enough of my fake identity, you know.” He huffs, shaking his head, “When I got to Bill’s he was almost as mad at me as Hermione for having left them.” 

“What happened after that?” Ginny asks with a whisper, cracked by curiosity and worry at the same time. 

“I came back.” He states in an obvious tone. 

“Yeah,  _ after _ that,” Ginny insists. “How did you come back?”

“I broke the locket?” Ron says tentatively, now genuinely confused. 

“You found the sword of Gryffindor and cut it?”

“Wait, Gin,” he shakes his head, passing one hand through his hair to move it from his face, before hissing, “Harry told you about it, right?”

“He more implied.”

“So… You don’t know?” 

Ginny for her part has started to get annoyed, “Know  _ what _ ?!”

Suddenly, Ron looks petrified, as if he had just had the permission to reveal the most intimate of the secrets. He lets out a long, shaky sigh, half for relief, half for the need of bravery. Hermione wishes he could at least feel all her support even from feet away of distance. 

She hears him gulp, swallowing loudly, before going, “It didn’t just… break. It fought, before.” 

Ginny nods, eyes wide on him, signaling to continue. “Harry opened it, actually, he spoke to in in parseltongue and the locket clicked open in front of him. I was ready to stab it with the sword, I saw a rivulet of thick, black smoke exploding out from it but I didn’t mind, initially, determined as I was to end it. But then… something else came out, the smoke transformed.”

“What do you mean ‘ _ transformed _ ’?”

“It turned into Harry first, he – the riddle-Harry –told me horrible things; of how unwanted I’ve been from my parents, the least loved son, and brother; how much of a bother I’ve been for them during our quest,” Ron’s now crying silently, his voice just barely inclines while speaking but she can still tell so by watching the soft jerks of his back, ever since. She lifts one hand to her mouth to stop a gasp, oblivious of the spell around her, and finds some wetness over her own cheeks as well. 

“Bullshit.” Ginny says quickly, voice high-pitched and shaky.

“Then Hermione appeared,” He goes on, ignoring his sister “It fucking turned into her too, but it wasn’t her  _ her _ . She looked at me in a mischievous way, not a good one, but with cruel eyes instead, so different from her warm ones. And I  _ knew _ , I swear I did, that it wasn’t her. But she started talking too, telling me how miserable I was in comparison with Harry Potter, The Chosen One, that every girl would prefer him over me and she- she kissed him.” 

She barely heard the last words, partly because of Ron’s panting, indicating maybe the edge of a panic attack, or because Hermione too is now sobbing, unable to keep her breathing regular either. He went through all of this and  _ she attacked him? _

She tells herself that she couldn’t know then, that no one could really blame her for her reaction since she hadn’t been just playing around or so while he was missing. But then again, she hadn’t even wanted to know the full story at first, she hadn’t asked for more than what he’d told her. She was  _ so _ mad and so so in pain, just like him. She could’ve been good enough to give him –them– a chance to heal earlier and faster, together, and yet she wasted it.

“Ron…” she manages to let out, but because of her own soundproof bubble, Ron ignores her. He keeps talking, rambling about the way he felt, how happy he’d been when he finally got to see her after what had felt like a century, she recalls. 

With her mind still blank, her heart beating so fast to dig a hole in her chest, she quickly rummages to reach for her wand, removing her spell at once. 

More heatedly this time, and her chest going up and down following her panting, she repeats, “Ron.”

It’s a whisper and yet, it’s enough to make both the siblings turn around, so fast she’s positive she’d just heard Ron’s neck crack for the rapid movement. They’re both staring at her with two pair of eyes popping out in shock, Ron’s face flushes immediately when he spots her and it would be incredibly cute to see his ears get redder and redder, in another circumstance. 

“Hermione.” Ron breathes in surprise.

“Oh shit.” Ginny stands up first, looking around as a kid who had just been caught with fingers marred of chocolate in the middle of the night. 

Ron rises slowly, instead, swallowing hard and never looking away from her. 

He walks toward her and Hermione finds herself moving forward too, like a magnet attracted by its opposite, the eye contact still never breaking. 

She hears Ginny muffling something like “I better go” and then tiptoeing to the kitchen, but it came distant to her, now too focus on Ron’s look scanning her expression. 

“Hermione...I–” 

He couldn't finish his sentence. Hermione suddenly jumps at him and throws her arms around his neck, holding him as tight as possible and for the impetus and the surprise of her action, Ron’s forced back a few steps before steadying himself and hugging her back just as tight, circling her waist and lifting her slightly from the floor.  

“I'm so sorry.” He mutters against her curls. 

Hermione shakes her head, her face buried in the crook of his neck where he now can feel her tears running down his collarbone, “I love you,” she exhales, “so much.” 

He pulls back then, softly pushing her by the shoulders only to stare at her and drop a tender kiss on her lips, barely brushing her mouth in a ghostly way, as a promise for more later. 

“Com’ ere,” his hands that had rested on her waist, slip up her shoulders, then down her arms caressing the smooth bare skin in the process, and finally reaching both her hands. He leads her in Ginny’s room – Hermione notes to owe her friend one once she’s done here – and she easily follows his lead, step by step and they’re inside.

One moment they’re sitting on Ginny’s mattress, stroking each other’s cheeks, pulling closer and breathing the other’s air as they kiss slowly, then more passionately when their tongues meet, and just a moment later they’re laying on the bed, with their limbs tangled in a way she hopes no one will ever be able to undo. 

“Ron,” she moans against his mouth, feeling Ron’s hand dangerously slide down, “we’re on Ginny’s bed.” 

He freezes, his hand laying flat on her lower belly where she’s positive he could feel her pulse even through the lacy nighty. With her body yelling curse words at her own brain, Hermione shifts slightly on one side of the bed, making Ron room beside her as he mutters, “Yeah, right…”

His complete change of attitude makes her want to chuckle at once, unable to refrain a loving smile and adjusting herself against his side, sliding under his arm as he offers it to her. For how much she loves to see her boyfriend confident in bed, she’ll never really be over how cute he looks when he gets awkward. She’s just eternally happy to be the one able to see both the sides of the medal. 

“I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t want to, but Ginny-” 

“I know,” he says softly, moving one rebel curl out of her sight, “she’d kill us.” Hermione laughs, hiding her face against her shirt. “Besides, I just really need to be with you. I don’t care, how.” 

“I’m right here,” she curls up closer to him, and Ron hugs her back in response, his warmth pooling all over her body, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

He nods, his look serious while staring at her  “Me neither. Never again.”

They kiss again, nice and slow this time. Unable to resist, Hermione catches his lower lips in both hers, causing him to smile as they pull back simultaneously. 

“Ron?” She calls again after a pause filled with regular breathing and the echo of their pounding hearts.

“Uhm?”

“Did you really think I liked Harry back then?” She asks softly, stroking his chest to remark who she really chose for her life. 

He looks away from her, still stretching his free hand to lazily comb her hair, “I guess?” He shakes his head as to clarify his thoughts, “I don’t know. I don’t want to blame the locket for everything but it surely amplified my inner fears you know, but I actually don’t recall a moment where I was scared to lose you because of Harry, not before I started putting the Horcrux on.

“Although,” he continues, his voice now strangely more trembling, “you had already dated an international Quidditch player so I reckon maybe that would’ve been your standard...”

“That’s such bullshit.” 

He turns to her and Hermione props her elbow against the mattress to face him fully, now glancing directly into those sky blue eyes she’s learnt to love so many years ago. 

“Ron, I don’t want to start making comparisons right now-”

“Oh  _ please _ -” he begs.

“ _ But,”  _ Hermione goes on, finally an amused smile crosses both faces, “jeez, Ron, you’re so much smarter! And nicer, and more caring, not only than Viktor but than most men I know.” 

His frown had ebbed away but he still doesn’t look fully convinced so she adds, “And if this makes you feel better, you’re definitely a better kisser.”

_ That _ seems to draw his attention, “Oh. Am I?”

She gets closer and smiling coyly against his lips, as to remark so, she closes the distance and presses her mouth on his, kissing him hard. He reacts with just as much heat and cups her cheek to pull her even closer. “Absolutely.” She finally says, breathless. 

“What a bad thing would be for his reputation to spread such words.” 

“Ronald!” She pinches him on the chest but he laughs instead, rolling on his back and pulling her above him. 

They collide again, mouths moving in sync, their head tilting as to try new angles for a better access, tongues dance, as they taste each other angrily. He bites her lip, dropping another peck on her lips while separating, only to stare at her. His hands get to cradle her face, stroking her cheeks gently with both his thumbs and god, he’s holding so much tenderness in his look, so much sincerity and pure love  _ for her _ , to leave her literally speechless for a while. 

“You love me that much?” She whispers, yet beyond her willing. “What you said to Ginny before…”

“Yes,” Ron replies quickly, no shade of doubt in his tone and she can feel his breathing tickling her cheeks as he speaks, “I meant it all.”

Then she smiles and kisses him for the umpteenth time that night, trying to merge all her feelings, her ‘I love you back’ and all the promises she’d be ready to accomplish for him only, in those kisses. 

When they pull apart and smile at each other, she thinks he’d already said yes, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Sarah (remedial-potions) for beta-ing the story and making an incredible polishing job, you've been very supportive and I can't be happier to have you as writing buddy.  
> Also special thanks to diva-gonzo for her support as well, and for inspiring this fic in part; it's crazy that we had the same idea to write at the same time. 
> 
> Please leave a review with your thoughts if you liked it, thanks for reading!! You find me on tumblr as lydias-martin xx


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